SONG.

Sae bright is Lucy's auburn hair,
Sae bright her een o' blue,

Sae bright her blushes, an' sae fair
Her bosom's snawie hue;

That when across the yellow sand
A mermaid saw her pass,
Astonish'd, sadly frae her hand,
She drop't her looking glass.

And when her voice, sae sweetly clear,
Came floating on the gale,

The mermaid 'gan her tresses tear,
And pour'd a piteous wail.

The deepest waes are light to mine,
That mermaid e'er could prove;
On me those bonnie glances shine,
But never shine wi' love.

ON A PICTURE OF DAVID.

Thou art the conqueror! the foe is slain,
And the first fire of conscious triumph gone;
The mind descends into itself, to gain

The thoughtful judgement of its calmer tone;
The glance of passion which then fiercely shone,
The flying tints which then with deep'ning glow
Shot o'er thy fever'd cheek and throbbing brow,
Have past away; and silently, alone,

Deep searching thought has claim'd thy full soul

now,

Strictly reviewing all that thou hast done;

Be thou assur'd !-for He, the Mighty One, Inspir'd the daring deed: blest youth! thou art The one approved after God's own heart.

ON A PICTURE BY HOFLAND.

How beautiful! with what rich mellow'd light
The rising moon illumes the evening sky,
Dispelling twilight's dim obscurity :

The distant landscape glimmers on the sight,
Veil'd in the floating mists of dewy night;
And, in the tranquil pride of majesty,
The glorious city lifts its walls on high,
Temples, and palaces, and shadow'd tombs ;
Where nought disturbs the mournful sigh which

comes

From hearts half breaking o'er them.-Silently
The deep broad waters flow, where breezes die,
Rippling the surface, and alone betray'd,
Where one long broken line spreads o'er the
shade,

With quenchless splendor sparkling restlessly.

MY OWN SENTIMENTS.

Though all the world should bid me tear
Thy long-lov'd image from my heart;
Though every voice should whisper near,
That thou and I must ever part;
Fear not; my love can ne'er decline,
My soul still hopes, and prays for thine.

Though guilt should stamp upon thy brow

Her mark, to part thee from mankind;
Though every one who loves thee now
Should turn away, and prove unkind;
Fear not; my love can ne'er decline,
My soul still hopes, and prays for thine.

He who would never share thy sin,

Would share the shame, that sin attending, And feel a fount of joy within,

The world's most valued praise transcending;

Fear not; my love can ne'er decline,

My soul still hopes, and prays for thine.

Let faultless hands presume to cast

The stone which first should lay thee low, My hand should be the very last,

Ah, it should never strike the blow. Fear not; my love can ne'er decline, My soul still hopes, and prays for thine.

As one who on the ocean's shore

The shipwreck'd seaman strives to save, And, 'mid the tempest's wildest roar,

Still holds his beacon o'er the wave; Thus shall my true love ne'er decline, My soul still hopes, and prays for thine.

Thus on destruction's wave worn brink, Though guilt and death should round me lower,

My foot alone should never shrink,

My beacon's God's all-saving power.
Fear not; my love can ne'er decline,
My soul still hopes, and prays for thine.